Monkeys, Policemen, and Immigration Officers (Part 1)

We were talking about monkeys the other day. Lunchtime conversations at the office are always unpredictable. Somehow, the topic turned from our varying secondary school education systems, to Malaysian All-Girls Schools, to flashers, then finally to the monkeys that frequented my officemate's classrooms.

I've had several face-to-face encounters with monkeys, too. Make that a lot. My university dormitory (they call it "kolej" here) was up a hill surrounded by trees and - consequently - monkeys.

They only came out at certain times - afternoons, near dusk, close to what I believed would be dinner for them. I watched them cross the street one. An entire clan with fathers, mothers, babies hanging upside down from their mummy's bellies, and young adolescent monkeys made up the unusual procession. They gave me quite a shock. I didn't know there were that many of them around.

One other time, this relatively medium-sized fellow kept me from going up my room. He bared his teeth and snarled at me and I made a U-turn while letting out a tiny scream. Another monkey blocked the other entrance to my block. I stood paralyzed with fear. Should I wait for the monkey invasion to die out?

But I had such a long day and I wanted to retreat into the comfort of my room. I did what any tired girl would do.

I bared my teeth and growled at the naughty creature.

Nothing happened.

I stomped my feet.

The monkey remained immovable.

I danced like a wild animal. Eventually, the creature flashed its sharp incisors before he said goodbye.

Bye, Monkey. Bye.

(to be continued)